THE PROMISE OF HAPPINESS. Erin Kaye
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after work and take her to dinner. Once, for no particular reason, he’d turned up with a bunch of forty red roses in his arms. He had been romantic and fun – they’d had great times together. She smiled and imagined him turning up on her doorstep now with flowers in his hands, like he did that day, grinning from ear to ear. She glanced at Oli and thought that if only Cameron could see him, he would love him as much as she did … But that was a fantasy, of course. And the life she’d lived before felt as though it had belonged to someone else entirely…
Oli had changed everything. Her circle of friends had changed. More and more she found herself socialising with other mothers, women she doubted she would have bothered with if it hadn’t been for the fact that they had children the same age. Amongst the people she regarded as her true friends, like Cindy and Max, whom she had known for the longest time, she had begun to feel boring, out-of-touch, uptight and out of date. They didn’t want to listen to stories of Oli’s latest accomplishment or how long he’d slept the night before. And she hated it when she caught herself indulging in obsessive mum-speak or spent the end of an evening glancing at her watch, worrying about getting home in time for the babysitter.
They listened politely, of course, too kind to tell her to shut up, but she could see the way their eyes glazed over while their minds drifted off. At the end of the day, she had realised, nobody was as interested in Oli as she was. Not even Max, despite his promises and good intentions. Because in the end he’d let her and Oli down, and she really wasn’t sure if she could ever forgive him.
But, Louise had told herself, the sacrifices would all be worth it in the end. She had prided herself on the fact that her child would never be shoved into a crèche or raised by strangers – bar the few hours a week in Edinburgh that she had felt essential for her sanity. And now, because of events beyond her control, that was precisely what she would have to do. Anxiety tightened around her neck like a noose.
She took a deep breath and told herself to keep things in perspective. Most mothers worked, single or not, and their children grew up into perfectly well-rounded, happy, successful adults. Look at Joanne’s family – the girls hadn’t suffered from their mother going out to work, albeit it was part-time and she was always there for them when they got home from school … A very different proposition, thought Louise with an anxious glance at Oli, from going out to work full-time. But, Louise reminded herself, being at home with Oli had been a luxury, an indulgence, a privilege. She had lived an inward-looking, self-contained life for the last three years – it was time to join the real world once again.
She googled Loughanlea and spent half an hour bringing herself up to date with the extraordinary project. The scale and scope of it was impressive, and the objective, visionary – it had taken over ten years of dreaming and planning to reach the stage it was at today. The old abandoned cement works – a fifteen-acre site of the most unprepossessing land imaginable on the fringes of Ballyfergus Lough – was in the process of being transformed into a major, ultra-green, recreational and leisure centre. The development would create four hundred permanent jobs – and hundreds more in the construction phase – and bring millions pouring into the local economy. Northern Ireland had never seen anything quite like it. Something in the pioneering spirit behind the project, the idea that someone had dreamt this and then made it a reality, moved Louise. And made her want to be part of it.
Louise looked at the number scribbled on the piece of paper that Sian had pressed into her hand at Joanne’s party. It belonged to one of Andy’s close friends who, as well as being a site architect for Loughanlea, was also a member of the board. With one last glance at Oli, she steeled herself, picked up the phone and dialled. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m Louise McNeill, Sian’s sister. She gave me your number …’
The voice that replied was as rich and velvety as that of the Jamaican continuity announcer Neil Nunes on Radio 4 – though the accent was all Ballyfergus. ‘Hi. I’m Kevin Quinn.’
‘I was wondering if you could spare a few moments to talk about Loughanlea?’ said Louise.
‘So you’re Sian’s sister,’ said the voice like melted chocolate. ‘She said you might call. It’s great to hear from you. How are you settling in? Sian tells me you’ve just moved into a new flat on Tower Road.’
The personal nature of these questions threw Louise for a moment. ‘Why, yes, that’s right. I moved in a couple of weeks ago.’
‘Good. Good,’ he said, his bass voice like an instrument. ‘And how are you finding Ballyfergus?’
Louise felt herself go weak at the knees and then caught herself. She cleared her throat. ‘Not much changed to be honest, Kevin,’ she smiled into the phone.
He chuckled. ‘Well, that just about sums up Ballyfergus, Louise. You’re not in the big smoke now. Things move more slowly here, though Loughanlea might be the exception. I think it might just put Ballyfergus on the map.’
She could’ve listened to his voice all day but, realising this was her cue to get the conversation on track, she said, ‘Yes, tell me about the marketing job. It sounds interesting.’
‘Well, from what I understand, Louise, they’re looking for someone with the experience and drive to market a world-class venue. Do you think you’re up to the job?’
She gave him a brief résumé of her skills and qualifications and he gave a long low whistle through his teeth.
‘That sounds pretty impressive to me, especially what you did at Edinburgh Castle, not that I’m an expert. The Belfast office of the Hays Recruitment Agency will be handling the recruitment process on behalf of Loughanlea and your timing couldn’t be better.’
Louise’s heart started to race. ‘How’s that?’
‘An advert’s going to run in the quality papers next week. If I was you, Louise, I’d get an application in pretty sharp.’
‘Well, thanks, Kevin. Thanks so much – for your time and for the advice.’
‘Anytime. I hope we meet one day very soon.’
‘Me too.’
‘Good luck, Louise,’ he added and the phone went dead.
Louise put down the mobile and wiped her sweaty palms on the fabric of her trousers. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get involved in something really exciting right from the outset. The only way to make Loughanlea into a world-class attraction was through professional, modern marketing techniques – the post of Tourism Marketing Manager was pivotal to its success. Louise suddenly realised, guiltily, how much she wanted the job.
‘That sounded very promising, Oli. And what I need to do next,’ she said, opening a file on the computer, ‘is to brush up this CV of mine.’
There was no response. She glanced at Oli. He was sitting on his bottom, his legs sticking out in front of him and his eyes glued to the screen. She loved him to bits, but sometimes, just sometimes, it would be nice to have another adult to talk to. She liked the sound of Kevin Quinn’s voice on the phone – warm and friendly. And she found herself wondering idly if he had a wife – or partner. Almost certainly yes. All the good men, it seemed, were taken.
Oh, what was she thinking! Maybe she had never given up hope of meeting someone, not like some other single mums who more or less resigned themselves to celibacy. But she had to sort herself out first. She needed a job and a permanent home.
Louise turned her attention back to the computer. She only had a week – there was a lot to be done. Things were moving faster than she liked, but when would another opportunity like this present itself? If she didn’t go for it, she could end up unemployed for months. And that was completely out of the question.
The doorbell rang and Louise glanced at her watch. She couldn’t believe that three-quarters of an hour had passed or that Oli had managed to leave her alone undisturbed for that length of time. She glanced up – he was playing on the floor with his Planet Protectors from the Early Learning Centre – Max had bought him the entire collection for Christmas. An expensive gift to salve his guilty conscience.